Face in the Mirror
by chickenswhoplaygolf
Summary: Dr. Heiter is thinking back on himself & the events leading up to creation of his Pet while trying to figure out what to do with them (assuming he has managed to stave off the police). Written as if Dr. Heiter & the members of his Centipede were still alive. rated M for sexually suggestive/violence


Dr. Heiter's thoughts wandered while he reclined on his couch. The couch was still adjacent to the wall on which the superb Siamese twin painting hung. He had left it there the day he had moved it to make room for the Centipede. His Pet was in another room, in fact, at the current moment, they were in separate rooms, having been "disassembled".

_"The rape drug...causes dizziness, drowsiness, and confusion..."_ his voice echoed at himself inside his head. _What was her name? It started with an L...doesn't matter now. _He could not remember any of their names, now they were just "Pet". It had been only a week and two days since completion of the surgery. Still, he remembered the events leading up to it perfectly, and thereafter.

Glaring at her through black eyes, Heiter leaned on the couch, watching with cold curiosity and pleasure while she groveled on the floor.

_She thinks I'm going to rape her_, he pondered, grabbing the needle in his hand.

Of course he doesn't want to rape her, no. He's not _THAT_ type of a man. He just wants to toy with her a bit...He grabbed her by the shirt and hair as she wailed in horrific anticipation. Heiter put first one leg, then the other around Lindsay, straddling her between his legs. Her voice elevating a notch louder, he lifted the needle above her neck. It plunged into her flesh. Thin red lips opened in ecstasy, eyes black like pools of dark chocolate, rolled up into the head, between the hollowed cheeks and furrowed brow. The lines above his brow softened a bit.

She dropped to the floor and Heiter let out a satisfied sigh.

Though he had gained world-wide fame as a Siamese twin separation surgeon, Heiter felt there was a certain sense of discontent with himself; this could only be remedied through having some degree of control over others.

When he thought back to his first (and last)marriage, he realized he had never loved her, in fact, he HATED her. The way she had a habit of nagging him constantly, he despised her for it. He had married her just before his career as a young surgeon had gotten underway. They had bought a house in West Germany, not quite as nice as this one but still decent. Heiter soon realized his marriage was interfering with his surgical practice.

He wondered why he had ever married her in the first place. And so he left her. The single life is divine, he thought.

Heiter never liked sex...too personal, he thought. Too complicated. He never was comfortable with "interpersonal relations".

So he found other ways to satisfy his urges...

_"My friend, you don't match. So I'm going to have to kill you..." _He took a needle off the tray next to the bed and stuck it directly into the man's IV tube.

The man stared up at him, his eyes watered pleadingly and his mouth quivered, wrapped around the bit his teeth were clamped on.

Dr. Heiter leaned in closer, pursing his lips and staring intently at the dying man before him. He was both excited and overwhelmed by the moment, further heightened by the girls' screeching and crying in the background. The heart monitor's frantic beeping, dropping to a flatline in seconds, brought him to a climax. He laid his face down on the hospital bed, resting.

After she had miraculously managed to escape the gurney restraints, he had realized his mistake in not making them tight enough...

_They can't get away now, _he thought. Besides, each one of them were heavily sedated and even if they did wake up, their movement was severely restricted by the fact that the ligaments in their knees had been cut, as well as the fact that they would be in intense pain if they did try to move...

He had left her in the pool room. Though the pool cover had closed over her just as the power had gone out, he knew she wouldn't succumb to death; she would find a way out of the pool-it hadn't quite closed, there was one corner still open on one end of the pool. He also knew she would make a last attempt at escaping the house. He thought of the large broken window in his bedroom which provided an easy escape route; _too easy, _he thought. He had toyed with her enough to make her believe she had little or no chance at escape. Be that as it may she kept trying, to the very annoyed dismay of Dr. Heiter.

_She'll give up, he thought, she'll have to... _He prepared his tranquilizer rifle once more and waited for opportunity to come, at which point he could resume his long-delayed surgery. he left the pool room and went to check on the others then to another part of the house. opportunity came soon enough. He heard her beyond the patter of the rain outside, small grunting sounds, as if she were lugging something heavy. he had returned to the pool room, knowing that she could not enter back in there without being seen. So, her only choice was to either hide in the bedroom or venture outside. He had checked on the two others and discovered the second girl was missing but she was heavily sedated. Which meant only one thing: she had managed to exit the house, carrying her drugged friend with her.

He exited the pool room, walking slowly down the hall towards the cold draft of air coming from the bedroom where the broken glass window yawned like a gaping black hole. _That must be fixed, _he thought.

There she was outside in the pouring rain, her back turned away from the house, her friend limp on the wet grass behind her. He aimed the tranquilizer squarely on her back and shot with no hesitation, although he was in no hurry. She collapsed almost instantly, then was still.

A white-coated figure with polished black boots, leaned over.

_"Help!" _her voice rasps mouse-like, a last cry of desperation, though conscious, unable to move her body or limbs.

One black boot is raised, and lowered slowly, pressing firmly into the side of her face, as if to stamp out her voice like a pesky insect being squashed into the dirt.

There will be no "Help" from this man...as Mason Verger says in _Hannibal, _"When the Fox hears the Rabbit scream, he comes a-runnin! But not to help..."

All of his anger was channeled in that moment, and he felt complete satisfaction. It was indeed "Game Over" for her.

He remembered the success of his surgery with the Centipede. It had taken all night to sew his living creation together, and at daybreak, he had stood with the creatures lying before him on the polished living room floor; he crooned and fondled them as they lay still sleeping under anesthesia.

_"My man, my lead," _he whispered into the male one's ear.

Though stitched together as one entity, each remained an individual and separate "pet".

_"Up, up up!" _Heiter coaxed.

He had had a sudden thought: show them the mirror, so that they could see themselves now...since these were not merely creatures, but a _human _centipede. Taking the mirror off the wall outside the living room, he brought its reflective surface before each pair of eyes. It gave him immense satisfaction as each of them cried in shameful pity at the mirror image in turn.

He grinned derisively, then he wept with tears streaming down his cheeks; wept while they wept, but not for the same reasons. To him it was an exhilarating and joyous cathartic release—finally he had succeeded in creating what he had ultimately failed at the first time; except _this _time he had created something even better.

Then he turned the mirror towards himself. He turned away, cupping his hand over his face. It was just too much. Composing himself, he looked again this time and pursing his lips, he began kissing the twin in voluptuous fashion, turning away from his Pet.

_"I don't like human beings."_ he once said. He got up from the couch, heading back to his bedroom.

Heiter seated himself on his bed. She was sound asleep under the heavy effects of the anesthesia. Dr. Hieter had temporarily detached the three members of his Pet Centipede, as a preventative due to complications. Heiter stroked her long dark hair lovingly.

"My Pets are sick now, but will soon be taken care of," he crooned.

The photo of 3-hund stood on the corner of his night stand. He glanced over at it. Fond memories, the thought of his precious rottweilers...but then he looked down at the figure before him. This...This creature...somehow satisfied something that 3-hund never had...it filled a void greater than what 3-hund had left. Heiter moved his hands to her mouth, lightly brushing his fingers over them. A beautiful creature. A beautiful pet. A naughty pet to be sure...nevertheless, she was his favorite, his girl, his alone...

He lifted her, placing her limp body over his shoulder. She was very lightweight, compared to his lead pet, the feisty male one; it was the difference between carrying a bag of feathers and a bag of concrete. She could not have weighed more than 120 pounds.

His frame, while lean, was strong and healthy. His body only just barely began to show the signs of his 60+ years. Surgeons, like him, seemed to age somewhat gracefully in part due to the cool and sterile air of the operating room and to their conservative lifestyle. Constant washing of hands before and after surgery, and avoiding such nasty things as car grease and fumes, as well as living in a starch home environment lessened the effects to make him look about 10 years his actual age.

to be continued...


End file.
